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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29384979">how i hate to spend the evening on my own</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachydeacon/pseuds/peachydeacon'>peachydeacon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(but it's more like an arrangement like roger and dom are married but they are both Gay), Alternate Universe - Royalty, Costume Parties &amp; Masquerades, Dom Roger Taylor (Queen), Hook-Up, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Open Relationships, Sub Brian May, implied/referenced dominique beyrand/veronica tetzlaff, implied/referenced freddie mercury/jim hutton, no actual smut, so basically it's more a marriage for appearances</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:35:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29384979</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachydeacon/pseuds/peachydeacon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, how about you? Are you enjoying yourself?” Freddie prompts after a moment. </p><p>“Not exactly,” Roger scoffs. “You know I hate these things.”</p><p>Freddie raises his eyebrows. “You mean, unless you can find someone to spend the evening with.”</p><p>“Figured that went without saying,” he laughs.</p><p>“Well, who knows, maybe you’ll find someone tonight,” Freddie muses.</p><p>♡♡♡</p><p>Roger meets a mysterious stranger at a masquerade ball.</p><p>Title from Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! by ABBA</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian May/Roger Taylor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>HalloQueen</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>how i hate to spend the evening on my own</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey friends! this is my extremely late halloqueen fic exchange fic for DeathOfLove! i hope you like it :-)</p><p>big thanks as usual to my darling friend andie for helping me edit and finalize things!! check out their <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrydrowse/pseuds/starrydrowse">ao3</a> and their <a href="https://starrydrowse.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ball is crowded, full of upper-class people in fancy dresses and elaborate masks. Roger feels remarkably out of place here, even more so than he usually does at these events. The Beyrands have always been big on mandatory attendance at these sorts of events, and ever since Roger had married into the family a few years ago, he’s been to more of these stupid events than he can count.</p><p> </p><p>The second they’d gotten to the ball, Dominique had gone her own way, dashing over to her friends and likely sneaking off to do scandalous things with Veronica. Now, Roger stands alone, scanning the room for a familiar face, though it’s quite difficult with the top half of everyone’s face covered.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a sudden tap on his shoulder, and when he turns to see who it is, he finds Freddie in a glittery suit jacket. The dark-haired man beams at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you like it, darling?” Freddie inquires, striking a pose with his head tilted up and to the side and a hand on his hip. “Had it custom made for the occasion.”</p><p> </p><p>Roger grins, running his fingers gingerly over the fabric. When he pulls his hand away, a few stray pieces of glitter are left on his skin. “I love it, Fred, but aren’t you shedding sparkles all over the party?”</p><p> </p><p>His friend shrugs unapologetically. “So what? I’m adding a little flare to this bore of a function.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t you having fun? Masquerades are usually right up your alley.”</p><p> </p><p>Freddie hums. “I’m not sure about this one. I looked everywhere for Jim, and…”</p><p> </p><p>“No such luck?” Roger sympathizes, and Freddie simply shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>Roger almost asks about Mary out of habit, but he thinks better of it at the last minute. The more time that passes, the less Freddie can seem to stand her, to the point where they only see one another when it’s mandatory for an event. Frankly, Roger’s fairly sure Freddie only lets Mary live in the palace anymore to keep up appearances.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, how about you? Are you enjoying yourself?” Freddie prompts after a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Not exactly,” Roger scoffs. “You know I hate these things.”</p><p> </p><p>Freddie raises his eyebrows. “You mean, unless you can find someone to spend the evening with.”</p><p> </p><p>“Figured that went without saying,” he laughs.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, who knows, maybe you’ll find someone tonight,” Freddie muses.</p><p> </p><p>Roger shrugs, an unpleasant pessimism settling in as the seconds tick by.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m off. I think I’ll look around for Jim again,” Freddie says, grabbing hold of Roger’s hand and squeezing it once before departing.</p><p> </p><p>Roger watches as he takes off into the crowd again before scanning the room again in hopes that somehow, miraculously, he’ll be able to find either another friend or a bloke worthy of his attention. Frustration burns in his chest when he finds neither within the first 20 seconds of his search, and he makes his way over to the well-stocked refreshments table. A variety of decadent-looking cakes and towers of pastries have replaced the rich supper dishes that had been set out earlier in the evening, and Roger’s mouth waters. He grabs one of the larger china plates set out at the end of the buffet, sliding it carefully along the tablecloth as he makes his way down the line. If there will be no gentleman callers tonight, he may as well enjoy the ridiculous luxury of these events to the fullest extent that he can before dawn comes and they all go their separate ways.</p><p> </p><p>He fills his plate with sweets and finds a seat out of the way of the bustle of the crowd. It’s not as though he’s ashamed to be seen eating, but it’s not exactly becoming of him to be caught scarfing down pastries instead of dancing with his wife, who is likely several fingers deep in Veronica Tetzlaff right about now.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, he manages to find a plush chair tucked out of the way between an empty table and the wall that separates the ball from the employees. He takes a seat and plucks one of the desserts from his plate. It’s a miniature cake with lavender fondant and an edible violet flower on top as decoration. He takes a bite, pleasantly surprised to find that the cake beneath the fondant is rich fudge and not the delicate hyper-sweet vanilla he had been expecting.</p><p> </p><p>It’s easy to get caught up in scarfing down the sweets on his plate, and it doesn’t take long until Roger has completely tuned out of the party and lost himself in a mental review of the catering. He hardly notices the employees bumbling around, the romantic music the band is playing, the loud bustle of partygoers yelling over one another to be heard. It’s only once his plate is empty that his attention is brought back to the ballroom, where people are laughing and chatting around the perimeter while others dance in the dim light in the center of the room. He glances over towards the sweets table again, debating whether or not grabbing another plate is socially acceptable so soon after finishing his first when a figure blocks his view of the buffet.</p><p> </p><p>When he looks up, a tall (<em>very</em> tall) man in a glittery purple mask covering the upper half of his face greets him with a soft smile. He has a mass of dark curls atop his head and an apron around his waist, and he’s wearing black slacks and a white button-down with a black tie, so Roger pieces together that he must be staff.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello,” the man speaks, giving Roger a pretty smile. “Shall I take your plate? Do you need anything?”</p><p> </p><p>Roger tilts his head, trying to decide his next move. The man is handsome, Roger is sure of it, despite the top half of his face being covered. He’s not quite sure if it’s standard to ask an attendee at an event if they want their plate taken, and seeing as he’s the only one tucked away in this little corner of the room, he doesn’t exactly have a frame of reference.</p><p> </p><p>“Um,” he stammers. “Yes. Yeah, I suppose so.” He sends the tall man a soft smile in return as he hands him the empty plate.</p><p> </p><p>“My name’s Brian, by the way,” the man says. “Do you need anything else?” “I’m Roger,” Roger replies, feeling his heart beat a little faster. He isn’t quite sure what about this man is so intriguing to him other than his looks. Of course, the looks are a part of it, but Brian has some sort of draw, as though there’s something magnetic between them that he can’t quite put a finger on.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a tense silence for a moment as the noise around them warps and fades into a whisper, before Brian clears his throat. Roger’s attention snaps back to the room as Brian awkwardly repeats, “Anything else?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh,” Roger stalls, near desperate to keep Brian here, but he doesn’t know <em>how</em>. “I suppose not?”</p><p> </p><p>Brian gives him a crooked grin. “I’ll see you around, then.”</p><p> </p><p>♡♡♡</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Brian mumbles against Roger’s lip as the blonde crowds him against the wall of the loo. His back hits the cold tile, shivering as the feeling of it soaks through his shirt and litters his skin with goosebumps. The hand that Roger had been locking the door with is now back on Brian’s hip, the other tangled in the taller man’s curls. Roger isn’t especially gentle, tugging Brian’s hair and guiding him exactly where he wants him to be, but Brian doesn’t mind. He allows himself to be pulled around and maneuvered however Roger wants him without second thought, whining softly when the blonde bites his lip.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” Roger pants softly, pulling back to look Brian in the eyes. “Do you like that sort of stuff?”</p><p> </p><p>Brian nods eagerly, his pupils blown as he stares unwaveringly at Roger. “Yes, yeah,” he practically whimpers. He feels his cheeks growing pink, but he can’t bring himself to care as he continues, “You can be rough with me.”</p><p> </p><p>A knowing look crosses Roger’s face. “Yeah?” he prompts teasingly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Brian murmurs. “I like it.”</p><p> </p><p>Roger smirks before surging forward to kiss him again, nipping at Brian’s lips and taking the lead more confidently now. He lifts his hand from Brian’s waist and brings it to his neck, just resting it there; there’s no weight behind it, no pressure, just a reminder that he could, and it makes Brian whimper.</p><p> </p><p>Roger pulls away again– far too soon, it feels– though this time he begins to fidget with the buttons on Brian’s shirt. Brian rests his head against the wall, his lips parting as Roger bites and kisses his way down his neck. Brian can practically feel how dark the marks Roger is leaving on his skin are, and he finds himself eager to see them. He feels <em>slutty</em>, honestly, letting some man he doesn’t even know mark him up like this, but it’s thrilling and hot in the best possible way, and he feels lightheaded over it.</p><p> </p><p>Roger is more familiar with the art of hookups, but this feels different, somehow. Better. Brian is pliant and eager and already hard against Roger’s hip, and it makes him feel dizzy with how turned on he is already. He sucks at Brian’s neck harder, and he knows it’ll leave a bruise in a place that’s easy enough to see above the collar of his shirt. It only eggs him on, the thought that someone could see it and know he belonged to someone, even if it was just for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>It’s almost like Brian can read his mind, because breathlessly, he murmurs, “Will people be able to see?”</p><p> </p><p>Roger nods, panting softly against Brian’s skin. The taller man shivers and bites back a soft whine, seeming equally as taken by the idea of being marked as Roger is.</p><p> </p><p>“You like being marked, hm?” Roger murmurs before kissing the new love bite on Brian’s neck.</p><p> </p><p>Brian nods enthusiastically, squirming against Roger’s body, which is still crowding him against the wall. It isn’t that he wants to move; in fact, he can’t get enough, he needs more than this, more than what Roger is giving him. “Please?”</p><p> </p><p>Brian looks at Roger with pleading eyes, pupils dilated and desperate. His soft lips are gently parted, and he doesn’t need to say another word. Roger knows exactly what Brian needs, and he’s going to give him everything.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>lemme know what u think if u wanna!! comments and kudos are super appreciated :-)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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